


to kneel and to need

by Poose, seven_hells (Poose)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fantasy, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/seven_hells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Stannis wants to put the insolent boy over his knee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to kneel and to need

His queen keeps to her own chambers, but they meet each night at dusk for the prayers. Stannis stays but a perfunctory moment - he's already given the red woman's red god his sigil and the shattered remains of his house; it needn't take his leisure as well.   
  
Selyse remains longer, even after Stannis has departed for his solar. She tells him so, in council, praising the lady's devotion. _A true adherent,_ she calls her. _One of R'hllor's most faithful servants._    
  
Good for her, he has told her. It is harmless, this piety, though the bastard boy in command of the wall tells him that the men do not like it.   
  
"They keep to the Seven, Your Grace," he has advised. "And as to the wildlings; the only gods they worship are the old ones."   
  
"Trees and fairytales," Stannis spat. "Will these too claim to ease my troubles, if I pray to them hard enough?"   
  
His bitterness registered. "Forgive me," said the boy. "I did not mean to cause offense." He pursed his lips as if to say more, but thought the better of it.   
  
"No," Stannis sighed. "But it is no use. Leave me, if you will."   
  
"Your Grace," said the boy. He knelt, rose, and then departed.   
  
Stannis stared into the flames of the hearth. She saw visions in her fires, things that would come to pass - of this she was certain. _R'hllor is the bringer of truth,_ she would say, if ever he expressed doubt. _He works in his own time; it is not for us mere mortals to know his divine plan._  
  
What did his flames foretell? Would they show a great victory over the Lannisters, canker to his crown? Or flashes of the swift justice he would deal to the Tyrells for allying first with his traitor brother and then with Tywin Lannister? An image of a trueborn son, what might come to pass if he set aside Selyse for another woman, younger and more fertile, as many of his advisers thought prudent? His kind-hearted daughter and only heir carrying on his line if he fell in battle?   
  
His Grace looked into the flames, past all these possibilities, and saw another vision; fleshed out, vivid with colors and sounds, as real as life itself.   
  
Ned Stark had been an honorable man, but even men of honor had been known to stumble during wartime. Jon Snow was the son of a whore - or an inkeep's daughter at best - and it was from his mother that he inherited his pretty face and plush mouth and an arse in need of pinkening. With the door locked and the women at their prayers Stannis would summon him.   
  
He would kneel, for he always knelt, and Stannis would tell him to rise and to come closer to where he sat. Even now, Stannis' fingers itched to imagine the solid weight of that boy between his legs, the way he would look with his pants pulled down and his bottom in the air; the sounds he would make - muffled whimpers and soft cries - as Stannis laid into him, punishing him for his insolence, the fact of his birth, his own boredom and frustration, the hatred of endless cold, days upon days of salt beef and unsweetened porridge, and prayers that went unanswered.   
  
The vision in the fire saw Jon Snow rut like an animal as King Stannis spanked him over his knee, his full bottom jiggling with each resounding slap, pale handprints appearing on the reddening flesh. He would feel him bare beneath his fingers, and allow him a hand to bring himself off. But as for Stannis; even in his idle thoughts he remained faithful to his wife and the woman, however, and so he sent the boy away before taking his pleasure from him.   
  
If he could have let himself go further he would have been rewarded by the gorgeous sight of Snow on his knees as Stannis held onto him by his hair and drove into that wet, impudent mouth.   
  
But Stannis was a man of honor, even in wartime, and even inside his own mind.


End file.
